


The Lioness and the Wolf

by CarpeNoctem20



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cheating, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:24:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16187192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeNoctem20/pseuds/CarpeNoctem20
Summary: Jon Snow, truly feels alone at Winterfell, his brother hates him, his father ignores him, yet the whole North loves him. Known as the White Wolf, Jon fought against the FreeFolk and became a Northern hero, garnering the attention of people he'd never thought he'd meet, nor did he think he'd find his true purpose.On Temporary Hiatus.





	1. The Hunter or the Prey

**Cersei**

She couldn’t help but watch him from afar, this boy, not even a man, had garnered the respect of the whole North. This White Wolf. The bastard had surprised her, the thought of him being pretty had never even crossed her mind.

 

This pup had led the vanguard against a hundred thousand wildlings and had slaughtered the Magnar of the Thenns, captured Mance Rayder and had successfully defended the Wall from the attack from the south led by some beast of a man going by the name Giantsbane.

 

This boy was said to be the best swordsman in the North, she couldn’t help but smirk at remembering that title, Jaime was said to be the best in the Westerlands at his age. And yet she cursed herself, no matter what, every time she caught herself looking at the boy her cunt wettened with need and want.

 

She wanted the boy between her legs, begging for more as he worshipped her, and when she caught the boy looking at her as well, it took all of her willpower not to find a way to drag him out into the cold night and give him the fuck of his life.

 

She was disgusted with herself, lusting after a bastard boy, a bastard boy whose blood flows the same as the Starks. But she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having a wolf to herself, turning him against his family. Surely it should be easy, the bitch to her right was a glorified cunt, she had seen the looks of disdain directed at the boy.

 

Catelyn Stark couldn’t help it, this she knew, she would act the same if Robert had fostered his bastards in the Red Keep, who then grew to be legends, known more than her own son.

 

Speaking of her husband he had yet to grace the hall with his presence, some of the Northmen she noticed were already well within their cups, laughing loudly and patting each other on the back. She would never understand men.

 

“What do you think you’re doing sitting here boy?!” Her husband's voice echoed throughout the hall, the feast gone deathly silent.

 

“Yo-your Grace?” The boy she had been lusting over whimpered back.

 

“Sitting here amongst these boys?” Robert questioned, his size and status intimidating the poor boy.

 

“I was told to sit here, your Grace.” Snow replied.

 

“You don’t deserve to sit here,” Robert shouted, yanking the boy up from the table he was sitting at.

 

“Yes Your Grace.” Was all the boy replied fear etched onto that pretty face of his.

 

“These tables are for these pansy squires, you deserve to be seated by the King! We can’t have the White Wolf of the North not have his proper reward, a boy who killed the Magnar of the Thenns, the one who was the first into battle and the last out, the one who took that false Kings hands before making him surrender and the one to save Castle Black from those savage cunts!”

 

The Northern men erupted in cheers as the King spoke of the boy's deeds, raising mugs and chanting _“White Wolf”_ over and over again.

 

“Come, boy, to the main table we go!” She kept her eyes on the lad as her husband guided him up to the main table, the bitch beside her had excused herself, muttering false reasons to leave and taking her daughter with her.

 

She watched as her husband whispered something to the bastard boy, his eyes widening and snapping sharply to look at her, her fingers formed into a fist as she imagined the number of things that fat cunt could be whispering to him about herself.

 

The boy was a tense mess after her husband had practically thrown him into the chair beside her, Catelyn Starks plate and cup were removed and replaced with a fresh set, the boys head looked as if it had been locked to only face forward, he hadn’t dared turn his head towards her yet.

 

Arbour Wine was a surprising beverage to find so far up North, she had wondered if she would be forcing down ale the entire night, but alas she was able to calm her fiery temper with enough of the stuff tonight, she couldn’t help but notice the boy was a fan of it as well, as he downed his second cup, before requesting for more.

 

She watched as he went to down another cup, but before it could even touch his lips, she had grabbed a hold of his wrist and forced it back down onto the table.

 

 

“Perhaps we should avoid accidents at the dinner table, hmm?” She asked, giving him a small smirk, before slowly releasing her grip, her fingers lightly stroking his arm as she drew her hand away from him.

 

“Ye-yes of course, Your Grace, sorry.” The boy whispered quietly as if he had lost his voice entirely.

 

She placed her hand on his thigh, the reaction from him was expected, as his knee hit the underside of the table. She couldn’t help but smirk as she saw how tense he truly was. As her hand travelled higher, the tenser he got, she watched as his fists tightened, turning white from the amount of pressure.

 

It wasn’t until her hand ghosted over something large and hard that he jumped from the chair excused himself and practically flew out of the main hall, her eyes followed him until he was finally out of her sight, she looked to her left and saw the King and Lord Stark looking at her with questions forming from their mouths.

 

“Too much Arbour Wine,” Was all she said, cutting off any questions that would’ve come from the both of them.

 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, the night's festivities tire me.” And with that she picked up her skirt and walked to her room, a genuine smile gracing her face for the first time since her fat oaf of a husband had mentioned this little journey.

 

The following days, she saw little of her new favourite bastard, the boy was either hiding from her or been told to make himself disappear, whether it was the first or the second option neither would do, so after breaking her fast on the fourth day, she explored Winterfell.

 

She wouldn’t admit to anyone, but the castle was rather beautiful in its own way, the light summer snow graced the rooftops and walkways and the dull stone matched beautifully with the white snow, making the whole castle look lovely.

 

It was a shame that shit and muck was everywhere, Winterfell was masterfully designed to repel invaders and would be attackers, the castle and all the men and women inside it could survive and thrive without any outside help for years.

 

Yet this didn’t help the aesthetics, it was practical. Typical Starks.

 

The sound of a bowstring caught her attention, her assigned Kingsguard moved to investigate the sound, but she ordered him away, keeping watch of the way she came in, as she got closer to the broken tower, the sound got louder.

 

A curse caught her attention, she couldn’t help but smirk as she rounded the corner and found the object of her dreams as of late, pulling back the bowstring before releasing the arrow hitting into the far rim of the target, another curse-filled her ears, she then waited for him to ready another arrow.

 

“Good morning.” She said and watched as the knocked arrow flew over the walls of the castle, as the boy jumped in shock.

 

He turned quickly and knelt before her, muttering his respects, she stalked forward as if she was a Lioness in the flesh hunting for her next meal, she got close enough to put a hand through his mane of dark curls, the smell of sweat radiated from him, yet she wasn’t disgusted, she just wished she was the one who made him sweat like that.

 

She crept towards the target he was shooting at, she took an arrow from the centre point and clutched it lightly, before walking over to stand before the boy, who was still kneeling, his eyes looking at the dirt beneath his feet.

 

She placed the tip of the arrow beneath his chin and slowly made the boy look at her, sweat poured from his head, he looked parched and scared, she followed the lines of his face with the arrow, like a lover's soft touch. She cut his cheek lightly and yet the boy never moved, just a mere wincing as the cut bled.

 

She had never been so hot, so wet before in her life, she ached to have the boy under her, riding him like a cavalryman rides his mount, hard and fast.

 

“What are you doing so far away from everyone else?” She asked, the arrow forgotten on the ground like a piece of rotten fruit.

 

“Lady Stark demanded that I stay away from the Royal Family, as much as possible, for I am not worthy to be In your presence, gave me an excuse to work on my archery.” He replied, his dark eyes looking up at her.

 

“A shame really. To hide such a pretty thing like you away from everyone.” She spoke softly, her fingers tracing his brow, before slowly dropping to his lips.

 

“Your Grace?” He questioned gently as if he wasn’t believing the situation he was in.

 

“Hush. You’ll talk when I ask you a question.” She ordered, and like the good pup he was, his lips clamped shut and waited patiently.

 

She leaned down and placed her lips against his, her fingers now gripping his chin, giving him no room to move at all, and gods were his lips soft, it took a bit of encouragement before he started responding to her, his mouth opening wide, allowing her access, their tongues fought for dominance, before she pulled back, she bit down on the boys lip, the taste of blood exploded onto her tongue.

 

She gripped his hair as he hissed slightly in pain, and pulled his hair, forcing his head back, his eyes locked with her own.

 

“You say nothing Snow. Nothing at all about this, and I’ll make you the happiest being in the world. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, my Queen.” Was all he answered, awe and lust shining in his eyes.

 

She leaned further down, removing her hand from his hair before grasping his hard cock through his breeches, he moaned, and she did all she could to stop herself from fucking him into the dirt.

 

“Tonight, when you play with yourself, think of me, think of what you’d do to me, moan my name into your furs, pump yourself for as long as you can and when you reach your peak, scream my name. Will you do this for me, my wolf?” She asked as her hand slowly and tortuously rubbed along his hard cock.

 

“Yes, my Queen.” He moaned.

 

With that she stood back up, her back straight and regal, she rubbed the back of her hand along his cheek, before wiping the blood that still slowly dripped from his cheek with her thumb before popping it into her mouth.

 

“Best get that cut checked out pup, wouldn’t want to scar your pretty face, would we?” She quipped, before leaving the boy with a fierce issue in his breeches to sort out.

 

Over the coming days, she avoided him, not out of guilt or second thoughts, but to torture him, she would watch from afar, as his eyes would scan over the crowds of people, looking for her. She had allowed his eyes to find her at one point, he had just stared at her, his eyes never moving from her, even through every bump and shove.

 

And then she took to another looking place, the pup had missed her move thanks to a rather large and dim-witted man, his size had covered her retreat, and when he had moved from the pups field of view, she could see the disappointment evident so clearly on his face, as he resumed his normal duties.

 

The Hunt was truly on.

 

And she intended to be the hunter, not the prey.

 

The sound of tourney swords clashing together, gave her a headache beyond belief, the morning was unusually cold, ice clung to the rafters, like tiny spearheads, yet she could not look away and neither could her husband nor Ser Barristan.

 

The pup was beating a group of three on his own, his opponents were his half-brother Robb, the ward, Theon Greyjoy and the third she had no clue, nor did she care, her fingers clutched together tightly as she watched the pup dance around his three foes.

 

It was as if he was a musician or a dancer, his steps and strikes were perfectly timed, and nothing he did was for show, everyone had a purpose, every feint, every twirl of his sword, it all came together like a song.

 

The unnamed boy took a blow to the nose, the whole courtyard seemed to have heard the break, the stupid boy now on the floor clutching his bloody nose screamed in pain. The discarded tourney sword was quickly picked up by her pup, a sword master this young was rare, a duel wielded swordsman was nearly unheard of, the last being Ser Arthur Dayne.

 

Blow rained from either side of him yet, his dance never wavered, never stopped, never impeded, his strikes broke the others boys spirits, the pup being too quick to deal with, the Greyjoy fell next, a hit to the back of his legs forced him down, and into the dirt.

 

His half-brother never stood a chance, she guessed the lad lasted forty-five seconds, before the pup used his blades to disarm him, before pointing the blunted edge towards his throat.

 

Her husband, let off a loud roar of a laugh, the Northmen in the courtyard yelled for the White Wolf, the poor pup offered a weak bow, clearly unsure of the situation he was now in.

 

“I’m pleased to find out the tales of the White Wolf have some truth to them at least!” Her husband yelled, amusement clear in his voice, but she couldn’t help but agree, as she squeezed her thighs together to get an inkling of relief.

 

“Boy, you should be in the South fighting in tourneys, with skill like that!” The Kings' fist banged on the railing, the wood looked as if another one of those blows were to come, it’d splinter from her husband's strength.

 

“Ser Barristan, what say you, hmm?” The King asked, the Kingsguard clearly off in his own head, his eyes firmly on the pup.

 

“He reminds me of a young Ser Arthur, your Grace.” Ser Barristan answered,

 

“Aye, he fucking does, doesn’t he? Dismissed the lot of you, I’m fucking hungry!” And with that the King walked away, leaving herself and Ser Barristan behind before the Kingsguard also took off. She couldn’t help but smirk at the pup before she too found somewhere else to be.

 

“The boy could do well in the south Ned, a boy with that skill, could become anything he wanted, with the right mentorship of course.” She perked up slightly, as she heard her husband's voice drifting down the hallway.

 

“And you’re going to mentor him are you?” The stern voice of Lord Stark, was practically a whisper when compared to her husband’s.

 

“Gods no! Me mentoring someone? They’d be drunk with a whore’s mouth around their cock before the end of the hour! No, someone like Barristan Selmy, or the damned Kingslayer, as much as I hate those blonde haired cunts, the Kingslayer is one of the best.” She snarled at that, another blow to herself, Jaime and their children, something she would not forget.

 

“The lad desires to join the Night’s Watch, something he’s been thinking about for a while now.” Lord Stark admitted.

 

“The fuckin’ Nights Watch? You have told the lad that it’s filled with rapists, murderers and undesirables?” Her husband demanded.

 

“He’s a bastard, as much as it pains me to say. My eldest hates him and my wife despises him, no amount of pushing those two kids together would make them friends, let alone family. An undesirable if I’ve ever heard one.” Her fist tightened, bunching her skirt so much it’ll be creased by the time she lets go.

 

“Sounds like a perfect reason to let him travel south, let him breathe free air, and if say after three years he still wants to join the ‘honourable’ order of the Night’s Watch, I’ll give him a Kingsguard escort to get him there.” She listened, hoping to hear a reply, but nothing, quiet, as if the Stark crypt had replaced Lord Starks solar.

 

“If he were to go south, who would take him on? A bastard of the North?”

 

“I will.” She announced as she calmly walked into the solar, her stare directed at Lord Stark, not even bothering to look at her husband.

 

“Your Grace as much as I appreciate the off-“

 

“The offer isn’t yours to accept Lord Stark, nor do I need your permission to make one to your son.” Her eyes, never moving from his.

 

“Why?” Was all her husband asked, surprisingly quiet, especially for him.

 

“I have need of a personal guard, having a Kingsguard is good, but loyal to you, and our children, if given a choice they would fight to save you, or our children before me, having a guard loyal to myself keeps me just a little safer.” She answers.

 

“Sure, but why Jon Snow?” Robert asks.

 

“His skill at his age reminds me of Jaime, in time, I can see him being just as good, and possibly Kingsguard to Joffrey, or to you.” Oh, how she wished to also admit because she liked the feel of his cock in her hands or the way he looks at her, with sheer admiration and awe.

 

“Well Ned, how can you say no?” Her husband retorted, as she looked at Stark, it looked as if he aged ten years.

 

“Aye, it appears I can’t, you have my support to invite him south, but as you said, you don’t need my permission anyway, you are the King and Queen.” Lord Stark sighed, rubbing his brow. But she cared little for him, she was delighted by the idea of Jon Snow coming south with her, oh how her cunt ached at the thought.

 

As she made her way out, a smirk blossomed on her face, thoughts and ideas of how to turn the pup into her lapdog ran through her head, and if the plan she was working on came to fruition, she was going to need someone loyal to her and only her.

 

As she stood overlooking the courtyard she smiled as she saw him, wailing away at the straw dummy, exhaustion evident as Ser Barristan stood beside him, tutoring him already, Stark had no idea the skill the boy truly had, and she couldn’t wait to exploit that.

 

Wolves howling woke her one night, she was the only one in her bed, as was usual, her oaf of a husband was probably bedding some whore maid. Another howl broke through the night, she left the comfort of her bed, glad that the springs of Winterfell were hot enough to be able to sleep nude, she wrapped herself in heavy furs, and left her room, ordering the guard at the door to remain there.

 

The cold hit her like a wall as she stepped outside, the sky clear of any clouds, numerous stars were spread across the sky, movement caught her eye, she watched as the young pup walked out of the main gates, so she followed, as quietly as she could.

 

She watched as a large white beast emerged from the Wolfswood, it’s tail wagging as it greeted her young pup, fascinated she inched closer, only for the beast to snap his eyes on her directly, causing Snow to look behind him.

 

She looked on as the beast took off back into the forest, her pup walking towards her. She smiled as he bent to one knee for her, before looking at her.

 

“Your Grace?” The question was on his lips before she could utter a word.

 

“Howling woke me, decided to take a walk.” She answered as she looked down at him.

 

“Barefoot?” He asked “Your Grace.” He muttered quickly realising his mistake.

 

“Stand.” She ordered and like the good pup he was, he did exactly that. His head bowed in respect.

 

“Reach under my furs.” His eyes widened, a startled look slapped across his face.

 

“Your Grace?” The boy bit back a scream as her hand quickly clamped around his balls, squeezing tight enough to make him whimper.

 

“I gave you an order.” Was all she replied, taking his hand and guiding it under her heavy furs, his hands were warm, hot even, something she greatly appreciated.

 

She closed her eyes in pleasure as the pups fingers made their way delicately to her sopping cunt, and once they did she bit her lip to stop the cry of pleasure, the taste of blood was in her mouth, but she didn’t care.

 

 _‘Harder’_ Is what she wanted and as if he read her mind an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close, and his fingers now finding their way into her, her hands clamped around his shoulders as he fingered her, to stop herself from crying out, she leaned her head onto his shoulder and bit down, her scream muffled as she hit her peak.

 

Once she had recovered she watched him look at her juices on his fingers, sniffing it before taking his fingers into his own mouth, this broke her will, and she pushed him, he tumbled to the floor a look of shock on his features before she knelt down and pulled his breeches down.

 

His hard cock was free and all she wanted to do was mount him, but instead, she took his cock into her hand and pumped, the moan the boy released was euphoric and so she kept on, he was chanting her title as if it was prayer, before he tensed and shot his load, it covered her hands plenty, she grinned, virgins never lasted very long.

 

She wiped his seed into the grass and listened as the boy gasped for breath, before getting dressed and heading back to her room, leaving the boy to recover. As she made her way back she couldn’t help but smile, she was going to enjoy this.


	2. Jon I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears that I am back apologies for the long delay, soon after my first chapter I was contacted by a College I used to attend, who happened to be interested in 'employing' me to write part of their Christmas play this year, I of course agreed, and that is where I have been, but I'm back now, with a smaller chapter than the first, but this is merely because I wanted to get something out to you lot.

**Jon I**

The blade sliced through the air with ease as it met another, blocking the intended strike from his foe. He had never felt alive more than when he had a sword in his hands, and the blade he was using was practically his life.

Longclaw had been a gift from the Lord Commander as he saved the Old Bear from the Magnar of the Thenns during the assault of Castle Black. He had used the blade to take the hands of Mance Rayder before making the false King kneel, and now he was using it against arguably one of the best fighters to have ever lived.

Ser Barristan had taken a deep interest in him, he had no idea why, nor did he care as he sparred against the legendary combatant, yet he was quickly losing ground for the fifth time today. Ser Barristan had clearly lost none of his speed nor stamina in his apparent old age, his strikes were clean, precise and ultimately deadly if one lost even an ounce of concentration.

It was a cold morning, the sweat ran off of him like a river, yet he was determined to keep at it, he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity due to exhaustion, the previous night had been intense, his eyes snapped wide as he clumsily parried a blow that would’ve taken his nose at best, his head at worst.

“Stay focused.” Was all Ser Barristan said as he took another shot at him, Jon knocked it away with renewed vigour, he then advanced on the older knight, pressing forward with quick strikes, forcing Ser Barristan to lose ground.

However, he got cocky, a miss timed swing cost him his blade and a new scar, as Ser Barristan stopped Longclaw dead, the old knight slapped the blade from his hand and lightly caught his wrist with the tip of his blade.

The wound stung as all small wounds do, yet that was the furthest thing from his mind, he cursed his stupidity as Ser Barristan inspected the small but deep wound.

“Looks like your maester is needed for this Jon, go have it taken a look at before you bleed to death.” Ser Barristan remarked, a teasing tone in his voice, alongside a small smile.

“Aye, Ser Barristan.” He agreed, picking Longclaw from the ground before walking towards Maester Luwins study.

On his way, he spotted Robb across the courtyard, Theon was with him but that wasn’t unusual, Robb and Theon were entertaining a group of serving girls, their giggling could be heard from across the courtyard loud and repetitive. He looked on as Robb laughed as Theon was clearly going on about some nonsense.

“I could never stand that noise.” A very recognisable voice announced.

He was on one knee the instant the sentence was finished, a hand laid upon his shoulder and a quiet but firm voice told him to rise. He stood there beside the Queen, his heart going so fast it felt like it was about to burst.

“Servant girls always think their little giggles and flirtation works but men don’t care about that, they merely want what’s between their legs, some don’t even care if the girl wants it or not, they still claim it.” Spite ran deep in the Queen's tone, he dared a glance at her gorgeous face and was unsurprised to see a sneer reside there.

“Not all.” He answered, to slow to stop himself from saying it.

“No. Not all. But most.” She turned to look at him, he was still short but growing but as she looked down at him, he felt smaller than ever.

He watched as her eyes roamed over him, like a hungry man at a King’s Feast, she inched closer to him, before he noticed her eyes land on his wrist, an embroidered piece of fabric was quickly being wrapped around the wound before he could even blink.

“The Old Tower, at the hour of the Wolf. Don’t be late.” She whispered before tightening the not in the fabric causing him to hiss harshly as the pain spread up his arm.

During the rest of the day, it was a bustle of activity, the King had again demanded another feast for tomorrow, so he helped saddle the horses for the next hunt, he was surprised when the King demanded he rides alongside him, with his father, his brother and Ser Barristan.

A band of ten men from the King’s court and another band of ten men from his father’s set off in the Wolfswood, his father had once told him that a man foreign to the lands could hunt every day for a year and still leave these woods with nothing, only a Northman who knew these woods would be able to find something worth eating.

They were an hour in before they found tracks, Boar he had heard the King mutter excitedly, before moving further in following the tracks, Jon, however, was only half there, he was looking through Ghosts eyes as he moved silently through the woods, the smell of prey filling his nose.

He broke out of the connection, still worried about the consequences of using his ability, it took another half an hour before, the King finally got off his horse and started moving on foot, excited for the hunt.

Jon kept back, however, watching as everyone else moved forward, he sat and waited, a nudge in the back brought a smile to his face, as he turned around, he came face to face with Ghost, the silent Wolf sat and licked at his face, he couldn’t help but smile whilst the loud cheer from the King echoed through the woods.

They arrived back in Winterfell just before sundown, bringing three boars as a prize and a day well spent, he quickly unsaddled his horse and got to work on washing the great beast down, he needed to wash as well, the third Boar the smallest of the lot had charged him, his sword cut through the beast easily enough, but the result was messy, he was covered in blood, the King had laughed, citing that it would be a sad song for a warrior such as ‘The White Wolf’ if he had been killed or injured by a small Boar.

After a wash he was moving towards the old tower, he had hoped to be there before the Queen, however upon entry to the highest room, it was clear the Queen had been busy in getting it ready for whatever was going to happen tonight.

“You made it.” It was a statement rather than a question, Jon stood still as the Queen, again dressed in just her heavy furs moved towards him from the back room, her eyes gleaming in the light of the small fire in the chimney.

Jon had dressed in his best attire, yet it was nothing of note, a Bastard is rarely ever given any thought when it came to attire.

“Strip.” It was a command, one he didn’t dare refuse, and so he did until he stood as naked as his name day.

The Queen walked around him, he felt like a piece of meat as he stood there as if he had just been slaughtered and his carcass was on sale, yet he stood still, but couldn’t help but also appreciate the view whenever the Queen walked in front of his line of sight.

She was everything people had said about her and more, she was stunning, to her hair, the way her emerald green eyes shone, to the way she walked and talked regal yet so beautiful, she was a goddess, one that could have him killed with just an order.

A hand on his cock drew his attention, she stood there smirking at him before giving his cock a few rubs, he moaned out loud as the pressure was just right, it felt amazing, her deft hands made him rock hard in seconds.

“For this next part, you need to be perfectly still, if not, it could go horribly wrong.” She said to him.

He dared not move as she lathered up his groin, a cut-throat razor in her other hand, she drew the razor down his chest, as light as a feather, his breathing was erratic, the cold blade made him tense and his nipples harden as she then circled them with the blade.

She took a hold of his engorged cock, it stood out proudly, whether she was teasing him or not he ached for more.

The blade was sharp, his hair around his manhood fell to the floor if it did not stick to the blade, after every stroke he watched the Queen clean the blade, he was glad the water she used was at least warm, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed though, he had been told that the hair that grew there meant he was becoming a man.

A wet cloth brought him back into the room, he looked larger as he took a good long look at what the Queen had done. Yet it wasn’t over, the hair under his arms was the next to go before the small trail of hair that went to his belly button was gone as well.

He moaned in pleasure though as the Queens' hands rubbed his now smooth body, but he nearly came as he felt her engulf his cock, and she took it all, moaning and slurping, her hands grasped his arse cheeks, her nails biting into his skin, yet all he could do was moan in pleasure.

Her eyes shone in the light of the fire, he risked running his hand through her gorgeous blonde locks and she moaned in appreciation, so he kept at it, never gripping her hair, nor her head, just enjoying the feeling of her mouth on his cock.

 

“My Queen.” He warned as he got closer, but that merely encouraged her, she took him deeper if that was even possible, faster and harder than before, Jon groaned as he spilt down the Queen’s throat.

 

He watched as the Queen stood, wiping her lips with her thumb before putting the remainder of his leftover seed into her mouth, his will broke then, before the Queen could even react his lips crashed into hers, rough and demanding, he wasn’t giving her a second to breathe, all he could think about was claiming her as his own.

 

His hands found the opening of her fur cloak, he pulled it open, freeing her body allowing it to be seen, his right hand found itself over her mouth, his dark eyes stared into the green he loved so much for only a moment before he fell to his knees and his mouth firmly around the Queens cunt.

 

He moaned as he gorged himself on the Queen, the way she thrashed and moaned only made him continue, her taste whilst not sweet, was not sour either, yet it mattered little to him, he loved it all the same, her hands clutched and pulled at his hair, the pain was euphoric, addictive and intense.

 

All of a sudden the Queen tensed, her legs he noticed were shaking as she gasped in pleasure, he licked his lips before standing back on his feet, the Queens' eyes were shut, but her hands were roaming over his torso, her nails tore down his chest, red welts left in their wake but he didn’t care.

 

The night came to an end soon after that, she didn’t utter a single word to him as she left, leaving him naked and alone to hide the clutter and put the fire out, he slept well that night, a smile on his face, excited for what’s to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears a review was left by the one and only Jon Stargaryen on FF a couple of nights ago, I just want to say that I love your work and I don't mean to step on your toes, but all stories must start somewhere and I intend to have this be a much darker rendition of the taboo coupling of Cersei and Jon. I can't wait to see you return and I look forward to your next work, whether it'll be a new chapter of The Lioness and the Pup or something new!


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